


Overwhelm and break me

by shinykari (meinterrupted)



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Established Relationship, M/M, PWP, Praise Kink, Rimming, Slight D/s Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 01:16:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6308581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinterrupted/pseuds/shinykari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He should head for the gym, let himself in and hit the heavy bag until he can't lift his arms, work this feeling out of his body like he always has before. Instead, he takes a different route.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overwhelm and break me

**Author's Note:**

> I posted [this prompt at the kinkmeme](http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/6856.html?thread=13988040#cmt13988040) (full text in endnotes) and couldn't wait for someone to fill it, so I dusted off my Gdocs folder and got to work.
> 
> Title from Job 9:17: "For He overwhelms and breaks me with a tempest and multiplies my wounds without cause." (Amplified translation)
> 
> Thank you to the lovely nonnies at FFA for being supportive while I was writing, those who have liked this on the kinkmeme, and especially to spaceisprettycool for beta/handholding duty. ♥ Any remaining mistakes are mine.

There's an insistent buzzing under Matt's skin. The night has been mostly quiet--only two attempted muggings--and maybe that's why he can't focus. He's keyed up, senses in overdrive, and nothing to loose them on. He cocks his head to the side, listening for sirens or screams or _anything_ , but all he gets is the ordinary night-sounds of Hell's Kitchen: late-night infomercials and babies' cries drifting out of partially-open windows, laughing drunks and loud music spilling out of bars, the scritch of rats digging in dumpsters. 

He feels the air pressure change around him, a sure sign of coming rain, and stands up from his crouch. He should head for the gym, let himself in and hit the heavy bag until he can't lift his arms, work this feeling out of his body like he always has before. Instead, he takes a different route, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, making it to Foggy's unlocked window just before the first of the fat, cold drops hit the pavement. He hears Foggy turn over in his bed, his heartbeat speeding up slightly, and Matt's breath catches in his chest. His costume is suddenly too tight and his fingers are shaking too hard to undo his mask, and he needs to get Foggy underneath him _right now._

The short trip from the living room to the bedroom is a blur, a confusion of too much adrenaline and too many clothes, and Foggy is mostly awake when Matt's bare shins finally hit the edge of the mattress. He very nearly collapses into Foggy, catching himself just before their foreheads knock together. Foggy mumbles Matt's name, his voice sleep-rough and confused, as Matt starts kissing and nipping messily down his neck to his bare chest. He needs, he needs, he _needs_ \--

Foggy yanks on his hair forcefully, bringing him up short. "Matty, _breathe_." His heart is a steady counterpoint to the storm brewing inside Matt, and it takes several seconds, but Matt finally draws in a deep lungful of air. It's not enough, it's not even _close_ to enough, but Foggy's other hand is gentle on Matt's face. "I'm going to take care of you, okay," Foggy says, voice low and velvet. "I need you to listen to me, Matty, can you do that for me?"

Right now, Matt would jump off the Empire State Building if Foggy asked him, which is something that should worry him more than it does. Instead he nods sharply, breath still coming in pants.

"Okay," Foggy exhales, and kisses Matt's forehead softly. His fingers are still tangled in Matt's hair, and he uses that leverage to position Matt closer to the headboard, still on hands and knees. He lets go and crawls out from under the arch of Matt's body, and Matt lets out a whine before he realizes what he's doing. Foggy shushes him, running a careful hand down Matt's side, deferential to the mottled bruises and barely healed cuts on his ribs, before gently pushing on Matt's neck to lower his shoulders into the mattress. "I'll be right back," he promises, dropping a soft kiss to Matt's upturned ass. "Don't move until I get back, Matty," he adds, voice firm.

He walks away, bare feet audibly sticking to the hardwood floor. Matt presses his cheek into the pillow and closes his eyes. The sweat he'd worked up as Daredevil has begun to evaporate, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and Foggy's cotton pillowcase is rough under his skin. The bed smells faintly of unscented detergent and Foggy's soap and Matt shifts a little, careful to not move more than he absolutely has to, rearranging his arms to better support his head. Through the open door, he can hear a cabinet opening and closing, then water running in the bathroom.

"You're doing so good, Matty," Foggy says, voice echoing against the walls as he moves closer to the bed. The mattress dips behind Matt, and he has to bite back a whine at the feel of a wet washcloth against his crack. Foggy's gentle but thorough, teasing his hole with the nubby fabric before moving down to cup his balls. He drops it on the bed under Matt's belly and Matt has to clench his teeth to keep from thrusting into Foggy's hand when he wraps it around his hard cock. Foggy shifts behind him and leans down to kiss the dimples on either side of Matt's spine. "So good," he praises, voice rumbling across Matt's skin, and Matt whines.

They've been doing this long enough now that Foggy knows just how to jerk Matt off, the speed that will make him come in minutes and the one that will keep him on edge for hours. Tonight he's using the latter, rubbing the pad of his thumb over Matt's slit on each upstroke, smearing precome down over the glans. He leans down, propped up on his other arm, blanketing Matt's body with his own. Foggy's sparse chest hair scratches against Matt's back, and his cloth-covered erection nudges up between his spread thighs. He kisses messy and hot across Matt's shoulders and neck, and it feels so good Matt wants to cry.

"Foggy," he pleads, voice muffled by the pillow. Matt doesn't know what he needs, only that he _needs_ , and that Foggy will know. He always knows. The air moves above him as Foggy nods. He pumps Matt's cock lazily once, twice more, then lets it smack against Matt's stomach. 

"I got you, buddy," he says, and sits back up, settling himself behind Matt. He spreads Matt's cheeks, holding him open. "I got you," he repeats, and Matt can feel the words ghost over his hole. 

Foggy licks a thick stripe up from Matt's balls over his hole, and Matt struggles to stay still, to not push back into it. Foggy's tongue teases and tortures, coaxing him open with sharp thrusts and long, firm licks. The buzzing under his skin grows louder, and when Foggy slides a spit-slick finger inside him, he keens. His whole awareness narrows to a pinprick, nothing more than Foggy's hot breath against his ass, his tongue flicking hard against the rim of his hole, his finger massaging Matt's prostate.

Foggy pulls away, and Matt whimpers. Foggy strokes his free hand down Matt's thigh. "Shh, Matty, don't worry, I got you." The lid of the lube bottle clicks open, and Matt can't stifle a yelp at the drizzle of cold liquid on his ass. "Best investment ever," he mutters, then his mouth is back on Matt's hole.

Time slows down, stretches out, and Matt can't tell how long Foggy spends eating him out, but at some point, somewhere beneath his ribs, the tension he's carried for hours starts to crack. Foggy slides in a second finger, then a third, the stretch delicious and warm. Too soon and not soon enough, his orgasm builds low in his gut, a sharp pleasure that twists and tightens until the pressure is too much and he comes with Foggy's name on his lips. 

Matt's shivering by the time Foggy maneuvers him onto his side and spoons up behind him. He feels wrung out, like he's gone ten rounds in the ring, but he's purged whatever was infecting him earlier. Foggy yanks the blanket up over them both and cards his fingers through Matt's hair, whispering, "You were so good for me, Matty, so perfect. I got you, okay? I always have you." His erection presses against Matt's bare ass, and Matt makes a half-hearted attempt to reach behind him to help him out with it. Foggy huffs a laugh and grab's Matt's wrist, stopping him. "Not tonight, Matty," he says. "Go to sleep."

Sleep sounds good, Matt thinks. He feels Foggy's heartbeat echoing through his chest where they're pressed together, listens to it slow down as Foggy drifts off. "Love you, Foggy," he murmurs, squeezing Foggy's hand against his chest.

"Mmff," Foggy answers, words muffled against Matt's back.

Matt smiles into the darkness and lets the sound of the rain lull him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Full text of prompt:
> 
> _Matt has a bad night as DD. It's not that he gets hurt (no more than usual) but there's something buzzing under his skin and he needs... he needs SOMETHING. He crawls into Foggy's window, and basically attacks Foggy, pressing him up against the wall, kissing him and being super forceful. But Foggy has seen this before and he knows that's not what's going to calm Matt down. So Foggy takes control, gets Matt on the bed on his knees, and eats him out until Matt is a sobbing, overstimulated wreck, and the buzzing under his skin is gone._
> 
> _+1 for aftercare (spooning, hair petting, a little bit of praise kink)_   
>  _+100 for Foggy not coming even though he's hard as a rock, because this is all about Matt._


End file.
